Fighting Fire With Fire
by Piperman-26
Summary: AU, Based in Hunger Games. Second part in Fighting Fire series. Elricest! Ed X Al I can't go back. I don't wanna go back. I can't go back. I don't wanna go back...Al won't know who I am. He won't want me back after he figures out who I am. Al won't know who I am. He won't want me back after he figures out whom I am. R & R please!


"April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs

out of the dead ground,

mixing

memory and desire,

stirring dull roots with spring rain."

-T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land

It burned. It charred. It was like fire danced across my entire being; it hurt so mother fucking bad… It was like that for so long. I wanted to die. I wanted to scream and wail; to hurt anything and everything I could get my fingers on. I wanted to make everything hurt because I was hurting so, so bad.

I wanted Al so badly...My whole body ached and throbbed at the mention of him. I wanted to see him. To hold him. To swallow up every single fragment of his being—his smile, the way his hips would saunter as he walked, his laugh that sounded like pealing bells—I wanted to let all of it fill my being until it brimmed over and spilled out in form of bright and unending love. But, God damn it, I couldn't.

My want grew into necessity and the thoughts of him tortured my already fragile being. The unending thoughts and torturous dreams lasted until one day…I broke.

I remember waking up, screaming his name like I was dying and he was my unwilling savior, his hand stretched out, but just beyond my reach. I tore at anything I could lay my fingers on. My paper robe was reduced to shreds, leaving me as bare as the day I was born. My clenched hands pounded against the thick glass of the window, not even making a single crack as I bloodied my knuckles. Not even the unwilling concrete around me was left unscarred. And, all that long, long time, my screaming never ceased.

My lungs gasped and twisted with each breath, unable to withstand the powerful agony that spewed from my lips. I remembered screaming till my throat ripped and blood streamed down my lips and chin, coating my teeth in the crimson iron. But, even after that, I still whimpered and snarled, his name sounding more like animalistic chatter.

They simply told me they could fix my throat and hands.

My memory went blank. After that, there was nothingness for days, weeks on end. It was just a void. Like, everything had gone completely white. There was whiteness in my ears and on my lips. The void filled up everything and anything till there was nothing but it inside of me and all around me.

If anybody ever gave anything to me or offered a kind word, I don't remember it.

Then, it all cleared up for one single day. I vaguely remember starting out the day, lying on my bed like I always did. It was like my senses were on high alert that day. Every movement my muscles made, I knew that they had moved. I felt the expanding and the contracting of my chest as oxygen poured in and carbon dioxide poured out. I even felt the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears and the gentle thrum that coursed through my entire body.

Ba-bump

Ba-bump

Ba-bump

Ba-bump

The fabric of the mattress felt odd against my skin. It was coarse and it rubbed against my soft, pinky skin. It made me itch and squirm around like a worm underneath the hot sun. I wanted comfort; something soft…

Then, like and unwelcomed guest, there was a softest sound of an automatic door opening. I can't remember why that sound was so distinct. Maybe it was the first, distinct sound I'd heard in a long, long time. Like any other person, my head lifted to see who was at the door. After all, my basic instincts like: "Who is it?", still remained.

"Wow…would you look at that..." I heard the faint click click click of something hard on the concrete and, soon, a face came into my line of sight. "The faggot is still alive." My lips naturally curled into a frown and my head fell back against the coarse fabric of my bed. I still knew what that word meant and whose lips in came from. I heard her make a sort of chortle and I felt my bed dip as she sat down.

I'm surprised they haven't killed you yet." She told me, lounging back, her arms and hands supporting her weight. "I mean, you caused a HUGE ruckus with your little stunt. Both your little stunts, you faggot." She chortled again, and I felt my lips turn down even more...

There the sound of silence filled the air. Silence, was never really silent; there was a soft, sort of rhythm to the silence. Then, I heard a sound I hadn't heard in a very long time. It was like a CRUNCH, but it had a softer note to it, like an afterthought of the strong CRUNCH. My neck and shoulders lifted my head up and I felt my eyelids flap a few times.

There, in her hand, was the first color beside red and white that I had seen in months. Hell, it might've been years. I starred at it, admiring everything about that one, simple, shiny, bright green apple. The light caught the hard flesh in one bright shining spot and the rest of the apple was warmed into a soft, summers sort of green.

Suddenly, my mind's eye flashed an image of something that I knew, but it felt like it was lifetime's ago. It was the meadows and rolling hills of summers green back home. Like the highest point of summer when the heat was at its hottest and baked everything around into a deep, green and golden crisp.

It was also the exact same light, golden green of the lily stems that grew all over out yard in early spring… Suddenly, I could've sworn I heard the softest pealing of laughter and smelled the oddest whiff of fresh vanilla right after it's been dried and the bright smell of freshly baked almonds…

Suddenly an unknown part of me longed to hold the apple in my hands; to feel it. Maybe because the sight of it had caused my brain to bring up such vivid memories of something I thought I'd forgotten. Maybe…a little part, benign part of my jumbled brains thought that if I touched that apple, I would see him again. That I would see my little brother again.

I grunted a little, the sound still animalistic. I looked at the apple with wild eyes, then I glanced up at her. A frown turned her lips down and she looked at me, then at the apple.

"Do you want it?" She asked after a long silence filled the air. I nodded, the feeling growing stronger and stronger. I NEEDED to hold that apple. I needed to know that apples that color still existed. I needed to know that that color still existed—that the places I remembered that color being still existed. I needed to know…that that person in all those places still existed….That my little brother, sweet, sweet Alphonse, still existed.

She glanced down at the apple, then back at me again. Another pause filled the air and I could feeling my apprehension and need growing—welling up inside of me.

She sighed heavily, the sound coming out as annoyed. "If you really want it…Geez, you look like a mad man." She sighed again, holding out the apple for me to take.

I slowly brought my hands up, the motions of reaching and grasping having become foreign. I wiggled my fingers, my worn joints giving several more pops. I slowly, my hand reached up, my fingertips barely caressing the smooth, cool flesh of the apple. It felt strange, unnatural underneath of my fingertips. My fingerprints and calluses hadn't sprung up from my baby pink skin grafts just yet.

My hand gently curled around the apple and I pulled my hand back towards myself. Just the act of supporting something in my palm required a great effort. I'd never realized just how much I had lost until I held that bright green object in my hand. My thumb gently ran across the flesh of the green, feeling no bump or imperfection. It was only smooth.

I remembered the lily leaves being smooth like this…completely perfect and completely innocent. Suddenly, I remembered that Al's cheeks felt like this. Soft, smooth, completely and utterly perfect. Not a single mark or scar of life branded into his skin…

My breath started to race and the green of that apple started to blur. I hiccupped and my fingers curled tightly around the flesh of the apple. It was real. The object I held so carefully in my palm was really there. That meant that the lilies were real and the hands that cared for them were real. And, the eyes that watched me and cared for me with their soft gaze were still real.

I clamped my eyes shut, the hot and salty tears running down my face. Then, my lungs took a deep breath and my vocal chords vibrated, producing my first words in months.

"Al…I'm sorry…"

After that day, things started to change. It was slow change, but change nonetheless. First, they transferred me to a different room. It reminded me a lot of my room at the games, but instead of being decorated in the strangest way, everything was a soft white. But, like always, the smell of sweet morphiling and harsh bleach haunted me.

Most of the time, I was left alone in the plain white room. They let me do whatever I fancied…most of the time. I recall getting yelled at through the scratchy intercom speaker a few times for doing something that I apparently, "wasn't allowed to do." Or whatever the hell that meant.

But, most of the time, I'd just sit in front of the wall sized window in my bedroom. I had one like this in my old room, but it was up too high and I was too busy trying to destroy it to focus on the scenery. Now, they had me almost level with the sidewalk and street. I busied myself by starring at the people who walked by. It vaguely reminded me of a zoo of some sort. They all had morphed and changed themselves into something that departed from the stereotypical human. It was like they were unhappy being born as a human and they desperately wanted to hide that they were a part of the Homo-sapiens species.

I remembered silently chortling, the sound more like I was just pushing air of my body in a stuttering manner when somebody would stop and look in my direction. They always had a puzzled expression, like they knew somebody was there because they had heard something. Paranoia was a good word to describe it. It was kind of ironic in the way they indirectly looked at me with that paranoia.

Once or twice, I would see that golden green and some sort of deep, pulsing wound throbbed violently in my chest. It took me a bit to realize what it was: I was, to put it bluntly, homesick.

I wanted to go home, so, so badly. And, that fact boiled down to I wanted to see Al so, so badly.

What was he doing? Were the lily's blooming pink, purple and yellow like I remembered? Did Winry make her delicious blueberry jam? I know how much you love to eat her jam on her homemade bread... Did you get another haircut? I know you like to keep it short, despite that I like it when it gets longer… You could never understand why I liked running my fingers through it so much. Honestly, I don't know why I like running my fingers through it either.

Can you sleep at night? Do you stay up late, thinking about me? I remember catching you awake, your head in your hands and a single, soft orange candle lighting up your room. I remember asking, quietly and not prying, what was bugging you. You'd sometimes jump when I asked, but you always lifted your head and looked up me with those smoldering golden eyes. God, they were so gorgeous in that soft, orange light… You'd always smile softly, your small lips turning up the slightest.

"I'm alright Brother."

I'd force a smile back, knowing that you'd always lie to me…

The thoughts of him plagued me, just like before when I had gone mad with desire. I'd wake up in the middle of the night, covered in a cold sweat and unable to sleep anymore. I'd get lost in my memories and fantasies, swearing that he was whispering right in my ear and that I could taste the vanilla and almonds on my moist tongue. It was driving me mad.

One day, when I was lost in the softness of imagining his voice, the sound of the door opening cutting through my fantasy. I turned my head, perturbed that I'd been interrupted.

"Hello there Edward." The voice was full of tones, woman filling each word with everything feminine. I blinked, seeing that she had a pale head full of long, thick, bark coloured hair. It reminded me of the smell of the forest. "How have you been feeling lately? Did they get your throat fixed?" Her velvet voice asked, her steps mere whispers on the white concrete. I felt myself starring, trying to figure out who this strange woman was. I gazed up into her eyes, seeing soft...lavender; the softest and palest shade of purple I knew. Then, I suddenly remembered where I'd seen that lavender. Before, there was a lavender head of hair to match…

"You're…?" I felt myself say, words sounding unfamiliar and foreign on my tongue.

"You've got a good memory on you there, boy." She flashed a pearly white smile, lowering herself to sit on my messy bed.

"How…did you live?" I asked, the words running out of my mouth before I could stop them. How?

When?

Where?

...Why?

She sighed wispily, her lavender eyes looking down at the ground.

"I managed to get out and escape not long after I sent you into the arena. I knew that once you did your stunt that they would be after me in no time at all." She started to explain, her velvet voice quiet. "After that, I wandered from district to district, trying not get caught or seen by ordinary people. I did have to make a few cosmetic changes though." She chuckled bitterly, shaking her head of brown hair.

"…So…" I started, trying to think through what I wanted to ask. My mind was full of so many questions. Even questions she probably couldn't answer. Where was Al? Was he alright? How was he doing? "…What happened since…?" I trailed off, leaving the question open ended. The rest of it didn't an explanation. She sighed through her nose, the sound heavy despite it coming from the confines of her nose.

"Well…" She started her voice soft and hesitant. "After you did your little stunt, they tried to continue with the Games. But, the bet holders and the audience still wanted to know what had happened to you. After all, everyone in the country saw what you looked like before you stepped off. While they were busy putting you back together—literally, they had to put most of you back together—the Games kept their pace despite everyone wanting to know what happened to you. But, right in the middle of the games, somehow, video footage of you wailing and screaming for you brother managed to get onto TV." She paused and I could feel her lavender eyes settle on me. I felt like she expected some sort of response out of me, but I simply grunted a little, encouraging her to continue.

"After that, the entire country was propelled into chaos." She started explaining again, "Some took it as a chance to rebel against the Capitol inside their districts. The discord was too much and, to please the public, the Games were ended early and all the tributes were sent back to their districts. Ever since then, the Capitol has been dealing with the riots and protests around the districts." She finished and I felt her eyes on me again. A frown turned down the corners of my lips and I glanced down at my bed.

"What about my district?" I asked suddenly, looking up at her. Something in the way I looked at her must've scared her because she flinched a little. She tilted her head, her eyes turning from mine.

"There were a few riots and protests in your district. A few people were killed when they Peace-keepers came and they resisted." She answered, her voice free of emotion and devoid of any bias. She told me the straight facts and it made me a little sick.

"I was surprised that they didn't do more." She added, brushing a few flyaway hairs from her cheeks and eyes. "You were from their district after all. Maybe they've forgotten about you." She mumbled that last part, but it didn't escape my sensitive ears.

"How long have I been in here for?" I asked quietly, not betraying the overwhelming emotion that filled me. If most everyone had forgotten…then did that mean that Al had forgotten?

"About a year or so." She replied simply. I jerked my head up and down in a crude version of a nod. I sighed through my nose, an uncomfortable silence of expectation settling over the pair of us. We sat there for awhile…So long that the whispers of Al's voice reached my ears.

"You've changed a lot." I perked up, almost having forgotten that she was sitting there. I sighed, the faint smell that accompanied my delusions fading. "You aren't the same boy that I saw walk into the arena with a single purpose in mind." I glanced up at her for a moment before looking back down at my lap.

"Different or not, I'm still the same delusional boy I was before. Now, I've just all these scars to prove how much following a single goal can cost you." I replied bitterly, looking down at my hands. My fingerprints had come back, but my hands were still a mess of pink and tawny. Silence filled the air until she sighed softly.

"You've done a lot of thinking, haven't you?" She asked softly. I looked up at her.

"Yeah." I replied.

"I think you've still got more thinking to do."

I blinked, looking up to see that she was standing up. Her eyes had a certain…look to them. Pity? No, it was something else. Some other sort of hard to understand, complicated emotion that I didn't get. Maybe it was bittersweet happiness.

I don't know.

"Take care of yourself Edward." She said softly, turning to leave, her feet making soft pit pat sounds.

Pit-pat

Pit-pat

Pit-pat

There was the soft, mechanical gliding noise of the door opening.

"You too." I felt myself say softly, not knowing if she'd heard my reply or not. Did it really matter?

More to think about? What else could I think about? I'd exhausted almost every train of thought available to my delusional mind. I sighed softly, pivoting on my bed to face the wall of windows. I fell into my starring habit and soon enough, the smell of almonds and vanilla filled my nose. My eyes drooped halfway and my body relaxed, surrendering to the quiet voice in my ear. But, as I starred, something outside the window captivated my attention. I blinked, ignoring the voice and the smell that surrounded me.

Outside the thick glass window, I could see faint flecks of white dancing down to the ground.

Snow? My eyelids quickly flapped, refreshing the picture in front of me. There was no mistaking it; that was snow.

My mind raced to find the memory of when it first snowed…

It was a cold, January morning and we both woke up to foggy breath and white piled up on the window frame. Al and I were just kids back in those days. We were excited about getting to play in the snow and not worried that we would catch colds afterwards because our clothing got all wet. Life was a lot simpler back then... We didn't worry about anything that wasn't right in front of us. The only time we really did worry was when we were excited about something that was gonna happen tomorrow or next week. The future—even tomorrow—was something that was far off and so we didn't need to waste energy worrying about it. But, we quickly grew up and worried about everything and anything. It became more than just simple, meaningless worries and it became a way of life.

But, I didn't understand what she meant she said I had more to worry about. I didn't understand what she was asking me to do. What did she mean that I hadn't thought enough? Was there still more to think about?

I shook my head to dislodge the thoughts from my packet cranium and stood up, my feet turning to the window. Without much thought, my body guided itself to my spot at the window and plopped itself down. My eyes opened and I blinked, still finding the snow raining down on the cold concrete ground. It was odd and a little ironic to see the multicoloured flora and fauna people walking around. Winter and the cold was the time when everything died and the land turned to black and white.

The colour felt wrong…like it didn't belong. My face twisted into a frown and I looked down at the concrete instead. At least it went along with the black and white image in my head.

Black and white…sudden warmth and chilling cold.

I silently wondered if the snow outside my window was actually cold. I knew the flakes weren't real, but I wondered if they went to the effort to actually make the fake snow cold.

I tentatively raised my hand and placed it against the glass. It was cold after all. It had to have been cold outside if the glass was cold to the touch. That must've meant that the snow was cold.

I felt myself smile a tiny bit as the cold seeped through the glass and ran through my fingertips. It ran up my arm and it poured into my shoulder, filling up the repaired muscle with a gentle cool. I let my eyes slid shut as the cold continued to seep through my entire body, meeting a mixing with the cold to make a gentle cooling sensation.

It was an oddly pleasant feeling. The cold.

It felt so much better than the fire that burned in my abused body. The drugs would mask the heat and the burn of the fire for a little while, but, once the drugs wore off, the fire poured into my body, lighting it on fire. It'd woken up several times screaming from the fire pulsing in my veins and arteries. Not long after that, they'd fill me with liquid ice called morphiling and I'd fall back asleep.

I don't know how long I sat there, my hand pressed against the glass, feeling the cold fill my body. Eventually, I let out a pent up breath, pulling my hand away from the coldness.

A soft tingle filled my hand along with the pleasant warmth of the blood returning to the starving cells. I twisted my wrist around, feeling the warmth fill up my entire body. But, it didn't turn into the raging flames I knew all too well.

It was soft.

A soft, pleasant warmth.

There had always been two sides to the flames inside of me: The sharp, metallic, burning pain and the softness of the warmth that filled me now.

I felt pleasant for once.

Hell, you could even say that I was happy.

But, now my mind was clear. The fog of the delusions had been replaced by the thought of the actual thing...Actually seeing him again. Actually smelling the soft almond and vanilla and hearing his soft, velvet voice against my ear.

I turned away from the window and looked around my room, searching for something I knew was there 24/7.

"Hey, I know what they can do with me. How about sending me home?" I asked, starring directly into the lens of a small black camera in a white corner. I starred for a while longer before turning back to face the window.

It felt like a long, silent time before I heard something like a door opening. I turned away from place at the window and I saw what looked like a pile of clothing on the ground. Grunting, I got up and walked over. My legs were stiff and thin from not having spent much time up and moving.

Sure enough, it was a pile of clothing with a note on top.

_Hurry up and get changed. You're going home._

I swallowed thickly, anxiety filling up my stomach. I'd thought of this day for weeks and weeks now and now it was right in front of me. I slowly crumpled up the note and let it fall to the ground. The sound of the paper hitting the ground was like a glass breaking on a concrete floor. I took a deep breath, holding the clothing tightly in one hand. For once, the feeling of bile rising in my throat wasn't from morphiling withdrawal.

The sound of and automatic door cut through my thoughts like a knife, severing my current train of thought. I jumped a little and looked towards the wall that had been bare concrete before.

I swallowed thickly and walked over to the doorway, my feet surprisingly silent on the concrete.

I frowned at the sight in front of me. A bathroom. A damn good looking bathroom.

The Capitol was a sick, cruel bastard.

Something reflective on the wall quickly got my attention and my eyes immediately darted to it. Immediately, I was captivated by the person starring back at me.

He was pale like he hadn't seen the sunlight in years… Pink lined his long throat and thick knots of scarred flesh trailed down to his collar bones. I slowly reached up my fingers following the sensitive pink flesh up to my lips. I licked my lips, the sensitive skin turning the palest red. Those lips weren't what I remembered…

I could feel my hand shaking as I trailed up my cheek to my eyes.

I sucked in a sharp breath, the intensity of the gaze quickly knocking the breath right out of my lungs. My stomach twisted violently and I quickly gripped the counter, the bile rising up in my throat till it reached my lips. I coughed and gagged violently as the bile finally stopped coming up from my stomach. I coughed a few more times, everything burning. My lungs ached, my throat throbbed—even my eyes swam with tears. I whined softly, my hand gripping the counter as my stomach threatened to lurch again.

I should've never have looked myself in the eye. They always say how the eyes are the window to the soul and they were damn right…

I quickly looked down at my chest, avoiding anything above my neck. I remembered that I had golden hair…and, for once, it hadn't changed. I reached up, gripping the thick strands that hung in clumps all the way to the tips. I tried to run my hands through the hairs, but my hand was shaking so damn bad. I gripped the counter tightly, my eyes clamping shut.

This couldn't be me…this couldn't be the person that I know…this couldn't be the older brother that Al fell in love with…

I opened my eyes and looked back at myself in the mirror. I gritted my teeth, my hands grabbing and ripping the paper robe that hide my body from my eyes. I reluctantly starred at myself in the mirror. This time, there was a bit of tawny and calloused skin splashed among the knobby pink scars. My hand trailed across a thick ribbon of pink that stretched from my shoulder to my hip, starring in disbelief. My teeth clenching around my lip, tasting coppery blood on my tongue as I bit through my lip.

"What did you…do to me?" I asked through my teeth, shaky my head. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!" I screamed, falling to my new and still pink knees.

Who was I? Who was that person staring back at me in the mirror? I shook my head furiously, my shinny, new fingernails digging into my palms.

How…How could Al love this? This mess of Capitol grown skin that covered the shell of the brother he used to know? This wasn't what I remembered…this wasn't the strong, tawny man that I remembered looking at in the mirror. I used to be able to look myself in my eyes with confidence, but now, I couldn't even think about without feeling sick.

No…he can't love this…I can't give him this. He…He deserves better…

"Get up Elric; you've gotta go home. Take a quick shower and get your ass dressed." The fuzzy intercom ordered me, the sharpness of the voice making me flinch.

I didn't want to go back anymore. I'd rather die and rot in this room. They could Al that I died. He probably already thought I was dead anyway… it'd just be another thing that he'd have to accept and live through.

But, despite what my mind was screaming, my body pulled itself to its feet and it shuffled in the direction of the shower. Maybe my body wanted to go back. I still had physical urges, and it seemed like that outweighed my minds screaming.

I don't wanna go back.

I can't go back.

My hand pressed one of the buttons and a mix of hot water and soap rained down on me. Some of the soap rolled down my face and dripped in my eyes. It seemed like a perfectly good reason to let a few tears fall…

I don't wanna go back.

I can't go back.

I don't wanna go back

I can't go back.

I don't wanna go back.

The water eventually disappeared and I opened the shower door and stepped out into the chilly room. I grabbed a nearby towel that wasn't there before and I dried off the mix of pink scars and tawny skin. I shook my hair out, running my fingers through it. Whatever button I had pressed had gotten rid of most of the tangles and knots.

Al won't know who I am.

He won't want me back after he figures out whom I am.

Al won't know who I am.

He won't want me back after he figures out whom I am.

I quickly dressed in silence, wincing as the rough cotton rubbed against sensitive scars. I liked my paper robe better… At least it was nice to my skin and was halfway comfortable.

I ran my fingers through my hair, gathering the long strands up into a ponytail I remembered wearing before. I avoided the mirror entirely as I turned to walk out of the still steamy and suffocating bathroom.

I silently wondered if I'd ever be able to look at myself in the mirror again…

"Time is tricky thing." I remember Winry's grandmother saying to me one day. "Sometimes you wish it could go by in a flash, and other times, you wish it would slow down to slow motion. But, time pays no heed to our wishes. It runs at its own accord. But, just like everything else in this world, time passing has its own purpose. Although," I remember her taking a large breath of her pipe, then letting it out in a big puff of white-ish smoke. "I feel like if we are to be happy, time does have your best wishes in mind." I remember her looking down at me with something in her eyes that I didn't understand at the time. "Always remember, Edward, that everything has a purpose in this world. Even time passing has its purpose."

I don't know why I suddenly recalled that old woman's saying as they landed on the outskirts of town. Maybe it was because…I couldn't even come up with an excuse. It was like one of those moments when you can't remember why you remembered something.

Déjà vu? Who knows…

But, before I knew it, they shoved me out of the hovercraft and took off, making everything dance chaotically in its wake. I sighed softly, watching it disappear into the clouds before turning to look at where they dumped me.

'Huh…?' I questioned to myself as I looked around at the meadow in front of me. Even though it was vague, I recognized this place. Suddenly, my heart started to race in my chest, remembering exactly where I was.

It was sunny day…almost exactly like this one…

I started walking, hearing Al's loud exclamation when the sky gave a mighty BOOM and the rain just started pouring down. I took off in a jog, remembering laughing at him when he tried to find shelter and not drop his basket of wild vegetation.

"There!" I heard my distant voice from the past and my eyes now shot over to an old, overgrown wooden barn nestled in a dip in the tree line. My heart was pounding at a thousand miles in my chest as I willed my legs to jog down the rocky hillside that led to the rode to the barn. I winced a little as I stumbled, remembering that Al had almost face planted running down the exact same path. I remembered reaching out and grabbing a hold of his soaking wet body. His basket went flying, but he was safe in my arms. I swallowed thickly, reaching the bottom of the hill. I looked up and remembered how our eyes had locked, boiling silver meeting molten gold. I looked away from the spot, my heart pounding at a thousand miles per hour as I jogged towards the old barn. I could've sworn I heard heavy breathing and sopping wet footsteps beside me…

"Is it unlocked?" I remembered Al asking me, his large silver eyes looking up at me. They were still boiling, but a bright, nervous red had risen up on his cheeks. My hand gently reached out, wondering now if it was still unlocked like it was last time…

I swallowed thickly, feeling the metal handle shift easily and the door creak open.

"It was good luck that it was open, huh?" I remembered Al chuckling once we got inside. "Wow…Smells a lot like straw…" I remembered nodding and looking around the old wooden barn.

It still smelled a lot like straw…Though, it was mostly empty now as compared to back then.

"You cold?" I remembered my own voice asking him, watching Al rub his arms with his hands.

"A little…" He replied, giving me a small smile with his bright red lips.

I felt my back hit the wooden door with a light BAM and I sunk to the dirt floor. I shut my eyes tightly, not wanting to remember what happened after that…

I didn't want to remember the way it felt. The way it felt to feel him against me, crying out my name, his heart racing every time I touched his flushed body. I didn't want to remember how good it felt to be loved…to be wanted like that…to hear him cry out his love wordlessly.

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the memories from my racing cranium. But, it just wouldn't stop…

I wouldn't stop once I stood up. It didn't stop as I followed the familiar path that led to town. And it certainly didn't let when I heard the whispers…

"Who's that?"

"A newcomer?"

"Why would somebody want to travel here?"

I kept my head down as I passed through town, knowing that no matter how much I tried to hide, they would still stare at me and dissect me with their beady eyes. It seemed like everyone's aversion to strangers was alive and healthy.

"Wait, do you see the scars on his arms?"

"That's the Capitols doing." I heard one of them whisper with such malice that it made me stop in place, foot poised to take another step. I heard a few shuffling steps and a few quiet coughs, but I still didn't move. Somebody made a sound like a "Tch!" and something with bristles hit the ground. All the old ladies had a broom or two used to for scaring of little children and beating teenagers with.

"What's your problem? Who are you anyway?!" I felt myself start to shrug, but I relaxed my shoulders, the movement looking more like I was rolling my shoulders.

"I was just," I started, turning to face whoever had spoken up. "Looking for Elric residence. Will you point it out for me?" I lifted my face to look a rather large and generally unpleasant woman in the face. Her pudgy nose wrinkled in distaste and she huffed, switching her broom from one had to the next.

"What business do you have at their house?" She questioned, her face still wrinkled like a prune. I let myself shrug and stuff my hands in my pockets.

"I guess that isn't your business, ma'am." I replied smoothly. I knew the way back home by heart, but I was worried that something could've made Al move. She huffed again, her mouth wrinkling to match her nose.

"It's off in that direction. Way back in the woods; it's the only home that's in that God-forsaken place." She clipped, jerking her head towards the woods behind me. I gave her a nod and turned on one foot to head in that direction. "Don't you be causing trouble for that young boy, you hear?! Or you'll get it, Capitol boy!" She called angrily at me and knew that she had probably waved her broom at me. I exhaled through my nose and shook my head. Old women and their brooms, threats always backed up with straw bristles…

As I made my way through the thick green trees, my stomach twisted tighter and tighter, making it difficult to breathe or even think about anything. The memories were racing past my blurry eyes, making it difficult to see anything beside the past. A flash of golden blonde followed by a soft brunette raced by in a blink, haunting me with laughed or screamed words of the past.

"Come on Al! Hurry up!" A small child with golden hair and bright matching eyes ran past me, smiling brightly at the brunette who was struggling to run with full arms and hands.

"Don't be upset, Al…it's gonna be alright…" An older boy had his hand on the crying brunette's shoulder, helping him dodge the branches in the thick dark of twilight. Despite the lacking light, the tears in the older one's eyes and the tears that fell from the brunette's cheeks seemed to shine. "We'll be alright without her…you've still got me and Winry…"

"I HATE YOU!"

"I HATE YOU MORE!" A pair of boys screamed at each other, tears running from grey eyes down pudgy cheeks before falling to the ground.

"Ed! Stop it!" The younger brunette giggled and screeched, trying to vainly push away the older blonde's hands, tears of lack of oxygen streaming down his cheeks. "That tickles! S-Stop—!" It suddenly went silent as lips were pressed against lips.

Just as the memory of us tangled together, both frozen stiff by the kiss flashed by, I stopped, hearing the soft brush of grass instead of the thick sound of leaves. I looked down with wide eyes, shifting my foot, hearing the soft rustle of the green grass against my foot. I ran my foot over the blades and I swallowed thickly.

There was a fight going on inside of me that froze me in place and made my palms sweat beyond belief. Each side was a part of a whole that had wanted this in the first place; but, each side had now arrived at a conclusion.

"Do I look up? Do I wait for him or do I go and find him?" One side demanded to get an answer from the other side.

"Can I stay? Should I even stay here? Why am I here?" The other side demanded back, not answering the questions posed by other side. Neither side wanted to answer the other's questions because…not even the whole of me knew the right answer. I wanted to take a side…I wanted to so bad. I wanted to run away, run far, far away from this place and let him think I had actually died. It felt like, on the surface, all our problems would be solved.

But...I wanted to stay just as badly. I wanted to see his face…his beautiful, pudgy face that had the largest and prettiest eyes I'd ever seen. Not even our childhood friends' eyes of a bright, yet stormy azure could compare to the soft, cloud grey of his eyes. I wanted him to look up at me and smile brightly, and, for once, I wanted to see tears of happiness in those grey orbs.

Suddenly, there was soft wind, kicking up the smell of sweet spring lilacs and old wood that was rotting along with…the purest scent of almonds and vanilla. The breath ran out of my lungs as the scent filled my lungs and seared the pink flesh, reminding me that my memories paled in comparison to the actual smell…

Without a backwards glace, I swept aside the battle raging in my mind and I looked up.

It was still there…

The same old, sun bleached, rotting and graying wood still covered the outside of the leaning house. The same, old rubber roof tiles made of old, ground up tires still covered the steep sloping roof. Surprisingly, the same, matching, cracked and holey glass windows framed the old, screen door. I vaguely remembered that the screen door always squeaked and slammed and Al whining about fixing the glass because it caused drafts. My eyes devoured every nook and cranny of my old, rotting, perfect childhood home, repairing the damage to my broken and overused memory.

There! I let a smile spread across my cheeks unconsciously as I laid eyes on the same, old and rotting porch swing that swung lazily in the soft breeze. But, standing tall and proud right in front of the porch swing, were the softly blooming lilies…

There were the lilacs…and the soft orange and organic whites like soft, freshly washed sheets…sheets that smelled like vanilla and almonds… then…there were the soft green of the stems…

I took a gasping breath of the breeze, my eyes narrowing with tears as my lungs burned in my constricting chest.

That green…that amazing, incredibly beautiful glowing green was right in front of me. The green that I'd first seen in that apple…that green that I kept seeing and dreaming about every single night I was in the Capitol. I green I would wake up screaming and shaking my head violently over.

Suddenly, I heard of rustle of sheets near the other side of the yard and, without thinking, my eyes darted to the shape.

I froze right then and there, everything around me grinding to a sharp halt. Even the oxygen in my lungs froze, hanging in suspended animation.

He was hidden behind a sheet, but the sun shinned so brightly that it imprinted his figure as a black shape on the white cotton. He was still thin…he was still lanky…his hips and torso still swayed with every movement like he was dancing…and a long, thin ponytail danced right along with him, the smallest and thinnest strand of hair imprinted against the damp cotton. His long, thin fingers tenderly and gently pinned the sheet in place on the rope. It felt like he was taking ages to pin the sheet in place… It was almost like he knew I was there and he was teasing me with faint glances, whispered words and subtle, seductive smirks.

Suddenly, a hand of the palest tawny grasped the sheet and moved around the edge of the cotton sheet. He slowly glanced up, blinking those amazing, gorgeous, adorable, precious, loving, incredible stormy grey eyes. He just starred for a moment, complete and utter disbelief filling the corners of his no longer pudgy face. But, slowly and surely, his face changed.

Disbelief.

Anger.

Doubt.

Anger.

Hopelessness.

Doubt.

Fear.

….Hope.

A flicker of recognition.

Hope.

Love.

Certainty.

Hopeless love.

Affection.

His mouth slowly, achingly, opened and a single word, a single question of confirmation, passed over his pale rosy lips.

"Brother..?"


End file.
